


Sight of the Soul

by Adders



Category: Dead Like Me, Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Derek Hale, Character Death, Crossover, Dead Stiles Stilinski, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, Murder, Post-Hale Fire (Teen Wolf), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Reaper Stiles Stilinski, Slow Burn, Teen Wolf/Dead Like Me crossover, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-23
Updated: 2021-02-12
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:06:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28271367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Adders/pseuds/Adders
Summary: Death followed Derek wherever he went. His family had perished in a fire, car crashes happened in front of him, and people suffered heart attacks in the same room as him. It seemed he wasn’t the only one Death followed as he sees the same boy over and over again where people die.
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, sterek - Relationship
Comments: 7
Kudos: 26





	1. First Impressions Don't Impress

**AN:** Dead Like Me/Teen Wolf crossover. Reapers are given a note with the location, first initial and last name, and time of death of a person or persons. It’s their job to locate the target and take their souls before they die and then help them cross into the next world.

**TW PLEASE READ:** This story has lots of violent and/or graphic deaths. In future chapters it references a **murder/torture/non-con** situation. If any of those things may trigger you, please please please do not read. I will give warnings at the beginning of ever chapter to warn.

* * *

When Derek was 3, his grandfather died while holding him. When Derek was 5, his great aunt had a brain aneurysm while they were at the aquarium together. When Derek was 10, his cousin fell off a cliff while they were hiking and broke his neck. When Derek was 15, Paige, the girl he loved more than anything, died in his arms. When Derek was 16, almost every member of his family was murdered.

Death loomed over Derek his entire life. He avoided making connections, knowing something would inevitably happen to them. As an Alpha, he craved to have his own pack, but he never sought out other wolves and even avoided interaction with them as much as possible.

He rarely talked to his uncle who had survived the fire or his sisters who hadn’t been present during it. He didn’t get along with his coworkers very much, not wanting to make any acquaintances since one of them died the very first day he worked after he greeted him.

Derek got used to people dying around him, but he noticed something strange the last few times someone had keeled over near him. It took him a little while to fully realize it, but every time it happened, the same teenaged boy always seemed to interact with them just before they died. He looked a little familiar, but Derek couldn’t recall ever meeting him.

He sometimes had a red sweater, but other times he was dressed up in casual business attire. Derek began to watch him closely. The boy always held a little yellow post-it note and would look around for some time before approaching a person and starting a conversation with them. He would usually shake their hand or give them a pat on the shoulder before walking away and watching from a distance, then looked like he was talking to himself for a while.

Derek couldn’t imagine Death would show up as a doe eyed, anxious looking kid, but he definitely had to be  _ some _ kind of supernatural being. He thought maybe the teen was a sort of bad luck demon and considered anonymously contacting a hunter to handle it, but the last thing he wanted was to deal with any more hunters.

When Derek sat outside of his favourite café, sipping his coffee, he once again noticed the boy in the red sweater scanning the area. After a while, he seemed to focus on a group of elderly women and headed their direction. For some reason, Derek felt the need to step in and did exactly that.

The kid was talking to them with a smile on his face that faltered a little when Derek approached.

“Sam, we have to go home now,” Derek said and the teen tried to hide his confusion.

“I thought your name was Jesse?” one of the women said.

“Oh, Sam is an old nickname in my family,” he shrugged.

Before Derek could do anything, the boy patted the shoulders of two of them and told them to have a good day. The kid shot him a glare before he started walking away and stopped near a store a little ways down. Derek followed right behind him and crowded his space.

“What are you?” Derek asked.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” ‘Jesse’ paled.

“Every time I see you, you touch someone and then they die,” Derek growled, “ _ what are you? _ ”

“You don’t understand,” Jesse shook his head, “I’m helping them.”

“You’re killing them,” Derek scowled.

There was a crash to the side followed by screams and Derek turned to see the two women practically cut in half by a window pane that fell on them, killing them immediately.

“Look what you did! You just killed two innocent women!” Derek pressed him harshly against the stone of the entrance.

“Alright, stay here for one minute, okay?” Jesse said, “I have something to deal with and then I’ll take you somewhere we can talk.”

“You think I’m just gonna let you go so you can kill more people?” Derek scoffed.

“I don’t  _ cause _ their deaths,” Jesse said, “I need to help them right now, so please take your hands off of me. You can watch me to make sure I don’t leave.”

“Help them how?” Derek asked.

Jesse sighed exasperatedly, “I told you we will go somewhere we can talk after this.”   


Derek released him and Jesse walked closer to the scene. Once again, it looked like he was talking to himself, staring at thin air with an understanding look and holding out his arm the way people usually would link them. He walked slowly before giving a nod to the air and smiling, eyes tracking something.

He took a deep breath afterwards and then walked to Derek with an annoyed look on his face.

“Either you explain what you are, or I will follow you everywhere you go and make sure you never get to your targets,” Derek said seriously.

“Listen, I’m not allowed to talk about it,” Jesse said, “come with me to a little place I know and my… ‘manager’ can explain things to you.”

“How do I know you’re not leading me somewhere to kill me?” Derek asked.

“You don’t strike me as a man who fears dying,” Jesse looked at him and Derek felt like he was staring directly into his soul, “what’s the worst that can happen?”

Derek took a breath and nodded, following Jesse to a little mom-and-pop waffle shop several blocks away. He kept asking questions on the way there, but Jesse continuously responded by saying he wasn’t allowed to answer.

They walked in and Jesse hesitantly led him over to a booth where five other people sat.

“What’s the cat dragged in, Stiles?” a man with a strong British accent asked.

“Stiles?” Derek raised a brow, “that’s a strange name.”

“Well what’s yours then,  _ Mr. Eyebrows _ ?” Stiles crossed his arms.

“Derek,” he chuckled, “Mr. Eyebrows is not something I’ve been called before.”

“That’s a shock,” Stiles sucked his teeth.

“Why is he here?” a fair skinned blond woman asked, looking him up and down, “not that I mind the view.”

“Cool it, Daisy,” another girl with ginger hair said.

“Well… um,” Stiles fidgeted around.

“‘Um’ isn’t a response,” the older man with dark eyes who sat next to Daisy said.

“He’s seen me at…  _ places, _ ” Stiles looked down.

“Someone needs to tell me what’s going on,” Derek said, “why do people die after he touches them?”

The British man snorted a laugh, “ah, darling, you’ve been too bold you have been, Red.”

“Shut up, Mason,” Stiles huffed before looking to the oldest man at the table again, “Rube, can you help me with… this?” he gestured to Derek.

“Your problem, you deal with it,” Rube shrugged.

“But I- how do I… what do I do?” Stiles started panicking.

“Calm down, get your shit together, and tell the man,” the black woman in the police uniform next to the ginger said.

“Better do it quick,” Rube said, opening a notebook and handing out yellow post-it notes to each of them, “you’ve all got assignments today.”

“But I already had a double today!” Stiles complained as he was also given one.

“Well, you’ve got another,” Rube said, taking a sip of his black coffee, “talk to Derek here so he doesn’t try to do anything stupid.”

“This is in 27 minutes and it’s across the city!” Stiles gaped when he read the note.

“Better get to it then,” Daisy smiled.

“Roxy, can you  _ please _ give me a ride?” Stiles asked the officer.

“Aren’t you gonna talk to the man?” she pursed her lips.

“I’ll explain it to him on the way,” Stiles said.

“You okay with riding backseat with the kid, Derek?” Roxy asked him.

“Sure, I guess,” Derek said, getting more and more confused by the second.

“George, can you drive me?” Mason asked the ginger next to him.

George nodded and each of them started getting up from their seats. Derek walked with Stiles to Roxy’s squad car and she opened the back door for both of them to get in.

“Explain now,” Derek said.

“Seatbelts on,” Roxy raised her brow at him in the mirror.

They both put them on and then Derek stared at Stiles silently, waiting for the teen to start talking.

“I don’t  _ cause  _ the deaths of people,” Stiles said, “everyone has a specific time to die. It’s our job to help them get to… wherever they go to.”

“They only die after you touch them,” Derek looked at him sternly.

“We take their souls out of their bodies before they die so they don’t feel any pain and they are able to move on way easier,” Stiles said, “some have unfinished business and we help them with that, or sometimes, they just need someone to talk to before they go.”

“So, you’re not a demon?” Derek asked.

“No!” Stiles said, seemingly offended.

“You’re obviously not Death, so what are you?” Derek questioned.

“I’m a Reaper,” Stiles said, “I reap the souls of people before they die and help them get over to the ‘other side.’”

“Is she one too?” Derek gestured to Roxy.

“Yes, everyone who was at that table is a Reaper,” Stiles said.

“How do you become a Reaper?” Derek asked.

“Well, you have to die first,” Stiles sighed, “none of us are quite sure about the selection process about who becomes one and who gets to move on.” 

“Are you Reapers for the rest of time?” he continued to question.

“Reapers have a certain number of reaps before they themselves get to move on,” Stiles shook his head, “we don’t know how many you have to do, any reap could be the last one.”

“So, you’re dead? How did you die?” Derek asked and Stiles bit his lip and looked away.

“That’s not something Reapers usually like to talk about,” Roxy cleared her throat, “unfortunately, there are some people that slip through the system, like Stiles, who didn’t get the luxury of having their souls reaped beforehand and had to experience the full force of their deaths.”

There was a kind of haunted look on Stiles’ face that for some reason made Derek want to hug him.

“You can either stay in the car or watch the reap,” Stiles said, “but seriously,  _ don’t _ try to stop it. As much as it sucks to see people get hurt, it is their time to go and if it doesn’t happen, everything is thrown out of balance and people who still have long lives will die unnecessarily.”

“How do you find the person?” Derek asked. 

“On the post-it it’s the first initial and last name, time of death, and location. We have to figure out who it is on our own,” Stiles said.

“What if you get the wrong person?” Derek raised a brow.

“I don’t actually know,” Stiles shrugged, but Derek noticed his right shoulder only raised slightly. “I asked Rube what would happen and he just said ‘you don’t want to find out’, so we’re as careful as we can be to make sure it’s the right person.”

“So, are the things that kill them already primed to kill them or is there something that makes it happen?” Derek questioned.

“There are these creepy things called Gravelings,” Stiles said, “they’re kinda like the mischief makers that ensure it kills them properly. They’re grey with spikes on their heads and really sharp teeth and they walk on all fours and climb on things. I nearly had a heart attack and died a second time when I saw my first one.”

“They are some ugly ass bitches,” Roxy nodded, “we’re about to pull in at your place, Red.”

“Are you chilling here or coming?” Stiles asked Derek.

The wolf paused before saying he would go with him.

“You’re gonna have to catch a cab or something on the way back, I have to go to work,” Roxy said.

“Okay, thank you for the ride,” Stiles shot her a smile, “I owe you a breakfast.”

“I will hold you to that promise,” she clicked her tongue before unlocking the doors to let them out.

Derek followed Stiles up a stone path to a large house with a for sale sign.

“Alright, I need you to just play along with me, okay?” Stiles asked.

“What do you mean?” Derek asked confusedly.

“Just play the part I give you,” Stiles said, grabbing Derek’s hand and threading their fingers together, puzzling the older man even more.

Stiles took another look at the name on the post-it as they entered and a middle aged woman immediately approached them.

“Hello, welcome!” she said, “I’m Diana Cray, the real estate agent. How are you today?”

“We’re great! Thank you for asking,” Stiles smiled.

“What brings you here to the open house?” she asked.

“My boyfriend and I have been looking for a place to move in to for a while now and we saw this house online and decided to check it out,” Stiles said. 

“How lovely!” she clapped her hands together, “oh! I forgot to ask you your names.”

“I’m Jesse and this is Tyler,” Stiles said, holding out his hand. She reciprocated, shaking his hand and Derek knew from the way Stiles lingered, that he was taking her soul before she shook Derek’s. 

A few other couples joined them and she began touring them around the house, explaining the history of the house and what parts had been conserved or renovated. They reached the master bedroom and someone pointed out the bed seemed to be missing and the house was stated to be fully furnished.

“The bed is right here,” she walked to a wall and slid open a panel to reveal a Murphy bed. 

Stiles grabbed Derek’s hand and gave it a squeeze which the wolf assumed meant to prepare himself.

“These are great space savers!” Diana said, patting the wood bottom.

Derek barely had time to blink before the bed came flying down, one of the middle legs spearing through her head. The couples around them began to scream as the bed pinned her to the ground, pulling their phones out to call emergency services.

“Unfortunately, you’re dead now,” Stiles looked next to him. “To be honest, if I was actually able to buy this house, I would have. You were a great salesperson. I’m the only one who can see you.”

They started walking outside right as the ambulance and police cars arrived.

“It’s time to go now,” Stiles said softly, eyes following the invisible figure before sighing and looking up at Derek. “How do you feel?” he asked.

“I’m used to seeing people die, it’s just… how can you talk to them with a straight face when you know they are about to be killed?” Derek frowned.

“You never get used to it,” Stiles said, “you just learn how to deal with it.”


	2. Pink Sugar Packets

“How long have you been a Reaper?” Derek questioned as they waited for a ride to come get them.

“I’m the baby of the group,” Stiles chuckled, “I was the youngest one to die and it hasn’t been even two months since I became a Reaper.”

“So, you died recently? Or was there a space of time between dying and becoming one?” Derek asked.

“I died and was thrown into it immediately,” Stiles said.

“Does your family know?”

Stiles looked to the ground, kicking his feet in the gravel. “The people who knew me when I was alive don’t see me this way. This is what I looked like before, but if they saw me, they’d see another person.”

“Did you try to tell them it was you and they didn’t believe it?” Derek asked.

“The words won’t come out,” Stiles said, “as soon as you start talking, all the memories just disappear until you’re away from them. Sometimes, I call the house just to hear their voices. My step brother seems to know it’s me. He’s said my name before. I miss them all.”

“What’s his name?”

“Scott,” Stiles said, a sad smile on his face, “we were best friends since the sandbox. A couple years ago his mom married my dad. My biological mom died when I was little, and obviously no one can replace a loved one, but Melissa was a really good mom to me. I’m pretty sure she’s the only reason my dad hasn’t been reaped from hitting the bottle.”

“I lost most of my family to an arsonist,” Derek said, surprising himself that he even admitted that. “Do you think... do you think they were reaped? Were they helped to the other side?”

“Pretty much every single person is,” Stiles nodded, “you could have your soul taken hours earlier than the time of your death. The Reaper will just hang out close by to help once they’ve died.”

“Why didn’t that happen to you?” Derek asked.

“I wasn’t supposed to die,” Stiles bit his lip, “I didn’t have a post-it. A Reaper got fed up with everything apparently and refused to do his job. His reap’s death was supposed to lead to something, which would lead to something, which would lead to something else. None of that happened, and instead... other stuff happened.”

“If they don’t feel any pain when they’re dying, why do people scream? My family was screaming,” Derek frowned.

“Dying is scary,” Stiles said, “it’s usually fear and… I don’t know. Maybe I shouldn’t say this, I don’t want to upset you.”

“Just be honest with me,” Derek said.

“With a death like burning... it’s a terrifying thing. They probably... saw themselves burning and expected pain,” Stiles spoke hesitantly.

“Is there a way you can check if their souls were reaped?” Derek asked.

“Where did it happen?” Stiles questioned.

“Beacon Hills,” Derek said and Stiles’ head snapped up at him with wide eyes.

“Derek… Hale? Are you Derek Hale?” Stiles asked.

“Yeah, why?” Derek raised a brow at him. A realization swept over Derek and he tilted Stiles chin up to see his eyes. “I know you,” he said, “I knew you were familiar. You were really young, but you were in the police station when they were asking me questions about what happened.”

“There’s no way you can recognize me,” Stiles shook his head, pulling back from him. “If you saw me when I was alive, you’d see a different person now.”

“No,” Derek said sternly, “you brought me a cup of coffee and handed me a bunch of pink sugar packets. You’re the Sheriff’s boy.”

“... I was,” Stiles nodded solemnly.

“I heard you went missing and they thought you were kidnapped bu-”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Stiles interrupted, voice shaking slightly. 

“Okay,” Derek said, “I’m sorry.” 

“I can ask Rube if he’s got any connections in Beacon Hills,” Stiles cleared his throat and changed the subject, “he might be able to get the records.”

“Are there records for every single person’s death?” Derek asked.

“Yeah,” Stiles nodded, “we have to write reports too. It’s incredibly time consuming. That’s one of the reasons why I hate getting multiple assignments on the same day.”

“Do you get paid for it?” Derek questioned.

“Nope,” Stiles sighed, “I have a part time job at the same place George works. I always thought being dead meant freedom, but it’s more sucky than being alive because you can’t even make connections with people who aren’t reapers.”

“Well, you made a connection with me,” Derek pointed out.

“Supernatural attracts supernatural,” Stiles said and Derek paused, staring at him. “Oh, c’mon, dude, I got wolf vibes from you when I first met you in the station. Now, you got Alpha vibes.”

“How did you know when you were a kid?” Derek asked confusedly.

“My mom was super spiritual. She taught me all about mythology and paranormal and everything like that,” Stiles shrugged with one shoulder, “I grew up Pagan since my entire family was on her side for generations.”

“Do you still practice?” Derek inquired.

“I lost most of my faith after I died,” Stiles said, “I still do some spells and crystal stuff, but how am I supposed to work with deities that allowed me to die in such a fucked up way? I spent my whole life dedicating so much time and effort and giving offerings, and they did nothing to intervene.”

“What happened to your shoulder?” Derek asked.

“If you had a severe injury while living, there’s a 50/50 chance that you’ll have at least some of it after you die,” Stiles groaned, “I won the award for shittiest luck.”

“What happens if a Reaper gets injured?” Derek pondered.

“We heal,” Stiles said, “it’s not like we can die again. It does hurt like a bitch though because endorphins don’t kick in like a living person. I can’t even tell you the amount of times Roxy has shot Mason and he just curls up in a ball till he heals.”

“Have you gotten an injury as a Reaper?”

“Oh, fuck, I am absolutely  _ the  _ clumsiest person,” Stiles snorted, “I’m always getting banged up from falling or whatever. There was this one reap I had where the guy got impaled by a metal bar and I was standing a little too close and it went right through my side.”

Derek cringed at the thought, making Stiles laugh a little at his face. When their ride arrived and interrupted Derek’s interrogating questions, they got into the car and buckled up. Stiles reiterated the address of the café he had brought Derek to earlier to the driver.

“I’m gonna be doing reports,” Stiles said, “you can stay if you want, but it’s gonna be pretty boring.”

“Give me your number,” Derek pulled out his phone. He caught the little blush on Stiles’ cheeks as the teen stuttered it out.

When they arrived, they had a slightly uncomfortable goodbye as Stiles was painfully socially awkward and rushed into waffle haus with his head down. Derek chuckled, finding it a little endearing.

Derek lived in an apartment only a few blocks away, and he spent the walk thinking about the boy. He couldn’t help but wonder what happened to Stiles. He vaguely remembered the articles and missing posters that circulated around after Stiles disappeared. 

Everyone assumed he was taken by someone his father had put away in jail. When there was no ransom demand, a massive manhunt was launched along with search parties. Derek never followed up with the rest of the story, but he definitely knew the unfortunate outcome now.

Derek looked up Stiles’ name and frowned when he saw most of the articles were over five months old, recalling that the Reaper said he’d been dead for less than two months. The newest one had been posted only a week and a half earlier, saying that the case was officially moved to the cold case office the day after what would have been Stiles’ 18th birthday.

The wolf rubbed his face, imagining how frustrating it must be for Stiles that his body still wasn’t found and he wasn’t even able to tell his family what happened.

He texted Stiles the next day and waited patiently for a response as he sketched the blueprint outline of the house he was working on. He never thought he would go into architecture, having studied business in college. He had inherited his family’s vast fortune, but he decided to work anyway to keep himself from getting bored.

Stiles responded within half an hour, saying he was at his day job with George. They went back and forth for a little while, Stiles talking about his strange but hilarious coworkers.

**You:** _ Do you have an assigned reap today? _

**Stiles:** _ yeah uptown around 6  _

**Stiles:** _ g and i get out @ 5 so i gotta speed there cuz traffic is a bitch _

**You:** _ Need a ride? _

**Stiles:** _ how the hell u got parking in the city ?? _

**You:** _ Parking permit with the apartment. Motorcycles are a lot easier to park. _

**Stiles:** _ ooo i get to ride like a badass chick on the backseat? _

**You:** _ If you want. _

**Stiles:** _ offer accepted dear gentleman _

Derek chuckled at the response before telling Stiles to send the place where he would pick him up. It took Derek a little while to find his second helmet, not ever having a passenger ride with him even though Stiles didn’t really need a helmet.

It was a bit concerning to Derek how attached he had gotten to the teen so quickly. He acknowledged it was probably because he was finally able to connect to someone without the fear of them dying, but part of it was also an overwhelming urge to care for him, knowing Stiles had gone through some horrible kind of trauma.

Derek got to Stiles’ and George’s workplace called Happy Time. Stiles had fitted black pants, a white button up shirt with the sleeves rolled up, and a tight vest. Derek was surprised to see the curves of wide hips that had been hidden under baggy clothing. He hadn’t seen Stiles up close whenever he spotted the teen in business attire while he was doing his reaps.

George grabbed Stiles’ wrist right as he was about to walk towards Derek, who had his helmet on, a confused look on her face.

“It’s Derek,” Stiles said, just barely loud enough for the wolf to hear.

“Yeah, I know,” she scoffed, “what the hell are you doing with him?”

“He’s taking me to my reap,” Stiles said, “I gotta go, it takes time to get there with all the traffic.”

“Dude, he’s alive!” she scowled.

Stiles nodded, “I’m aware.”

“Are you kidding me?” George stared at him, “Rube’s gonna lose his shit!”

“I’ll deal with it later,” the younger Reaper said, pulling away from her and walking to Derek.

Derek gave Stiles the helmet, receiving the amused look that he had expected, but Stiles put it on nonetheless and climbed onto the bike.

“Hold on tight,” Derek said as he revved up.

Stiles wrapped his arms around Derek’s waist and the wolf raised a brow when hands slid under his leather jacket, but made no comment. He kicked off the stand and started on the way to where Stiles’ reap was.

As expected, there was traffic, but Derek was able to navigate his way around it to get Stiles there with a few minutes to spare. He stood back and watched the teen case the area, puzzled when he saw the pained look after some time.

There was a man walking with who Derek assumed was his wife and had two small children hanging off of his arms, giggling as he lifted them up and down. It seemed like Stiles couldn’t bear to actually interact first and he simply walked behind the man. Derek assumed he trailed his hand along his back as the man looked over his shoulder confusedly as Stiles walked away.

Stiles headed to the edge of the open plaza they were in and kept his eyes cast down. Not long after, the man collapsed to the ground, his wife screaming for help as his children sobbed, not fully understanding what was going on. A woman jumped in and started doing CPR, but it was futile as Stiles got closer and started speaking to the spirit that no one could see.

The Reaper spent some time consoling the dead man before he was apparently able to help him to the other side. When Stiles returned to Derek, he had a solemn look on his face. The wolf had been leaning against his bike and instinctively pulled the boy into a tight hug.

“I hate when it’s in front of family,” Stiles mumbled against his chest.

“You did good,” Derek patted his back as sirens sounded from far away, “where you headed to now?”

“Do you like waffles?” Stiles looked up at him.


	3. Achilles Come Down

**AN:** Yes, I decided to make Stiles a genius just for the hell of it because I love Spencer Reid. Also, here's some history lessons on mythology during some nice bonding conversations.

* * *

Rube sighed when Stiles walked in with Derek behind him and Mason scoffed with a grin on his face.

“Sweets, what’s he doing here?” Rube asked.

“Waffle time,” Stiles said, “we can sit at another booth if you want.”

“Nah, come here,” Mason waved them over, “I wanna have a chat with the bloke who’s got Little Red’s attention.”

“No interrogations,” Stiles said as he sat next to Rube and Derek sat next to Mason.

“Derek, I don’t know if Stiles here told you that Reapers aren’t supposed to get involved with living people,” Rube took a bite of his food.

“He did,” Derek said.

“Well then, can you explain why you’re here?” Rube asked.

“Supernatural attracts supernatural,” Derek shrugged, repeating what Stiles had said earlier.

“Werewolf or not, you are still  _ alive,” _ Rube said seriously.

“Whoa, wait, what?” Mason sat forward confusedly, “werewolf? There are fucking werewolves?”

“Mason, we are essentially ghosts and you didn’t think that there are other supernatural beings?” Stiles raised a brow.

“Are there vampires too then?” Mason asked.

Stiles paused for a moment, “I mean, I read a lot of lore before I died because I studied mythology, but I haven’t seen one. Have you ever met a vampire, Rube?”

“Yes, and they were the meanest sons of bitches I’ve ever encountered,” Rube said.

“Wait, you studied mythology?” Mason questioned, completely sidetracked, “you didn’t start college though.”

“It was just an interest I guess, but I got to teach a class at the local library about different cultures’ mythology,” Stiles said.

“What was your favourite one to teach?” Derek asked.

“I really loved Norse and Egyptian, but my absolute favourite story in any culture is Achilles and Patroclus from Greek mythology,” Stiles smiled softly, obviously getting lost in thought.

“Hello there,” the waitress approached, holding several cups and a pot of coffee, “I don’t think I’ve seen you before.”

“I’m Derek,” the wolf said.

“Kiffany,” she introduced herself, “can I get you anything?”

“What do you recommend?” Derek asked.

“Our banana chocolate waffles are famous in this town,” Kiffany said.

“I’ll take that then.”

“Would you like some coffee?” she held up the pot.

“Yeah, thank you,” Derek said.

“What about you, honey?” she asked Stiles, “anything to eat?”

“Just coffee please, Kiffany,” Stiles said politely and thanked her after she poured their cups.

“I’ll get that order in right away,” she nodded before heading to the kitchen.

“I’d expect you to like stories about mischief and chaos. Trickster Gods like Loki,” Rube said to Stiles. 

“Loki was my patron when I was practicing,” Stiles sighed, “I thought we had a good relationship, but I’m dead now so... guess it wasn’t as good as I had thought."

“I would’ve taken you for a Hades and Persephone person,” Derek said, “why Achilles and Patroclus?”

“It’s the ultimate underrated Greek tragedy,” Stiles tapped his fingers on the table excitedly, happy to talk about it. “In the  _ Iliad _ , Homer describes their relationship as the deepest connection there is. Achilles is cold towards every other person except Patroclus and even lets him wear his armour into battle. When he finds out that Patroclus was killed by Hector, he’s so grief stricken that he laments over Patroclus’ body and starves himself and requests that when he dies, their ashes are mixed together. Despite being told that he will lose his life if he kills Hector, he’s blinded by rage and takes revenge for his lost love, dragging Hector’s body behind his chariot.”

“How does Achilles die again?” Mason asked, “something about his heel?”

“Hector’s brother, Paris, shoots a poisoned arrow into Achilles’ heel, the only vulnerable place on his body,” Stiles said.

“I’ve always wondered why it was vulnerable. Is there a specific reason?” Derek inquired.

“There’s some debate about that, but the most accepted answer is that his mother, Thetis, dipped him in the river Styx when he was born to make him immortal, but she held him by his left heel,” Stiles took a sip of his coffee, “the other story is that she covered him in ambrosia and put him on a fire to burn away the mortal parts of him but was interrupted. There was also some pottery discovered that depicted his death with the arrow striking him in the chest instead of the heel, so Achilles’ story is a little strange.”

“What’s the most difficult story to explain?” Derek asked.

Stiles paused and thought for a moment. “Probably the story of Osiris and Isis,” he said.

“What’s that?” Mason asked.

“I didn’t think  _ you  _ would be into mythology, M,” Stiles raised a brow amusedly.

“I’m allowed to have…  _ interests _ just like you!” Mason said defensively, “now tell the bloody story.”

Stiles spent a long time telling them about the different versions of Osiris’ death. Mason cringed hearing about his drowning and dismemberment at the hands of his brother, Seth, while Rube listened with an intrigued look on his face.

Kiffany obviously caught part of the conversation as she placed Derek’s meal down, shuddering at his words.

“So morbid,” she tutted.

“If you think that’s bad, you should hear some of the original fairytale stories,” Stiles said, “Snow White is messed up and don’t even get me  _ started _ on Sleeping Beauty.”

“I don’t want to hear it,” Kiffany shook her head, putting down the utensils for Derek. “Let me know if you need anything else.”

Once she walked away again, Derek turned to Stiles. “If you had gone to college, what would have studied?”

“I think I most likely would have done psychology and criminology with a minor in English, but I also love math and engineering and philosophy,” Stiles said, “apparently, the colleges I applied to didn’t get the memo that I went missing because I’ve been receiving all of my acceptance and scholarship letters through emails this week.”

“Ooo, what schools?” Mason asked.

“So far, Caltech, Harvard, MIT, Stanford, Duke, NYU, Seoul National, and Yale,” Stiles listed, “I’m still waiting to hear from Princeton, Columbia, and UChicago.”

There was a stunned silence for a moment and the teen looked around confusedly, “what?”

“You actually  _ got into _ those schools?” Derek asked, awestruck.

“Yeah,” Stiles said nonchalantly, “I think I would have committed to Stanford since they have the best psychology program, but on the other hand, Caltech has better science related programs, so… I don’t know. I was on the way to the airport to fly to South Korea to check out some of the schools there when I got taken.”   


“Do you know how to speak Korean?” Derek questioned.

“Oh, Red knows pretty much  _ every  _ language,” Mason said, “like all hundred of them.”

“Well, there are actually over 7,000 languages in the world,” Stiles laughed, “French is predicted to be the most spoken language in the world by the year 2050, so you better start learning, Mason.”

“How many do you know?” Derek questioned.

“I’m fluent in 67 languages and semi fluent in 16 others since I’m still learning,” Stiles said like it was nothing at all.

“Why do you act like a total dumbass when you’re actually the smartest person in the room?” Rube asked.

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’ve got some  _ crippling _ social anxiety,” Stiles snorted, “public schools aren’t typically kind to know-it-alls. Even trying to blend in, I got the shit beaten out of me all the time, mostly from Jackson fucking Whittemore.”

“Even his name sounds like he would be a prick,” Mason said

“He totally was,” Stiles nodded, “I think he’s laid off targeting my step brother because I’m gone. I guess maybe he felt guilty especially since I had become friends with his girlfriend, Lydia. She was the one who organized a candlelight vigil for me right after they realized I was missing.”

“Is there no way to report where your body is?” Derek asked.

Stiles’ face fell slightly and Mason answered for him.

“Red don’t know where he’s at,” he said, “his situation is way different from ours.”

“I’m somewhere in a forest, but I can’t say the exact place, just that it was deep in the woods,” Stiles leaned back against the seat.

“Do you think it was my preserve?” Derek questioned.

“I really don’t think it was in Beacon Hills,” Stiles shook his head, “if it was, Peter or another wolf would have found me by now.”

Derek looked at him confusedly, “how do you know Peter?”

“He’s the one that turned Scott,” Stiles said, “you missed a  _ lot _ when you left. He was crazy for a bit but he’s okay now. I mean… I think he’s okay. I haven’t seen him in a while. You should go visit him.”

“The last thing I want to do is visit him,” Derek scoffed, “he’s insufferable.”

“He’s not so bad,” Stiles defended him, “he actually helped look for me. We had kind of a mutual respect after I yelled at him for biting Scott and he apologized.”

“You  _ yelled  _ at him and he didn’t try to kill you?” Derek asked incredulously.

“No, I think he was surprised that I stood up to him when he had his claws out,” Stiles said, “either way, I convinced him to help Scott control himself.”

“I can’t imagine him doing something nice without wanting anything in return,” Derek said.

“He said I would owe him a favor at some point. He never got to ask for it though,” Stiles shrugged.

They were interrupted when George walked over and greeted them, pausing when she noticed Derek. She looked between him and Rube and back again. “You’re okay with this?” she asked.

“Not at all, but we have to let Sweets learn lessons on his own sometimes,” Rube responded.

“Roxy and Daisy are on their way over,” she scooted in next to Stiles, not wanting to be near Derek. “Daisy’s reap was pretty bad.”

“Is she okay?” Mason asked concernedly but then cleared his throat and tried to cover up the tone that gave away his feelings towards her.

“It was a child,” George said and both Stiles and Mason cringed, knowing how terrible it was when their target was young and should have had a long life.

“How did yours go, Sty?” she asked.

“Dad in front of little kids and wife,” he sighed.

“How’d he go?” Mason questioned.

“Heart attack,” Stiles said, “he wanted to hug his wife to comfort her, but he couldn’t do it. I felt really bad for him. They were expecting another baby.”

“Damn, that’s hard,” Mason tutted, “you okay, love?”

“Yeah, I’m alright,” Stiles nodded.

“Did Delores dump that project on you?” George asked, talking about their boss.

“Mhmm,” Stiles groaned, “I thought it was supposed to be for you.”

“It  _ was _ ,” George smirked, “buuut I got her to give me something else to focus on and said ‘Jesse could totally do this.’”

“Oh, you bitch,” Stiles jeered jokingly.

“You do know you have to present it too, right?” she raised a brow and Stiles’ face went blank.

“You’re kidding,” he said quietly.

“Nope,” she shook her head, “you have to present to the new clients.”

Stiles let out a groan, rubbing his face with his hands, “I hate doing presentations.”

“Just think of it like you’re teaching a class,” Derek suggested.

“Ah, yes, let me tell my company’s clients about how Helen of Troy was birthed by a woman named Leda who Zeus seduced as a fucking  _ swan _ ,” Stiles rolled his eyes.

“Is that seriously her backstory?” Derek asked.

“Yep,” Stiles nodded, “Zeus really knows how to woo women apparently.”

“How does that… how does that work?” Mason asked, “how do you get down and dirty with a swan?”

“I really don’t want to know,” George held up her hand

“Agreed,” everyone else at the table said.


End file.
